


So Many Nights Like This

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Dancing, M/M, Romance, retirement fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack wanted it all. He hoped Daniel did too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Many Nights Like This

_"Nowhere to run baby, nowhere to hide ..."_

_  
_

It wasn't until he hung his dress blues in the closet for the final time that it really hit him. This was it. Roll credits. Jack O'Neill was no longer The Man. Jack O'Neill had the newly-acquired status of civilian. Jack O'Neill was retired. Not for he first time, but certainly for the last. The official send-off at the Mountain had been something to get through; a speed bump on the way to tonight's unofficial career wake.

It had been bearable. He'd been asked where he wanted the presentations to take place; Washington or Colorado. Like there was ever a question. He couldn't wait to quit his Air Force-issue rabbit hutch for a full-time return to the house he'd never been able to sell. There had been a spirited chorus of "I knew it" when he'd pulled the plug on the sale in the final hours. Just another of the things he hadn't been able to let go.

So, they'd all dutifully turned up at Cheyenne Mountain on a late summer afternoon. The great and the good. Various Top Brass had said mainly nice things. Landry had said wholly nice things and had ceremoniously handed over the keys to the desk drawers Jack had never opened. There had been knowing, indulgent laughter all round.T hen there had been joke gifts of seniors' travel passes; tickets to afternoon dances at a day center in the Springs and a subscription to a magazine specialising in retirement hobbies. There was also a very nice, large check, which he was working on how to spend.

He'd smiled through it all, acknowledging the kind words and amusing gifts with good humor, but all the time the starched shirt collar and the freshly-pressed uniform were feeling ever more constricting. He'd outgrown the service, just as he was starting to out-grow the smart blue pants, thanks to a desk job that had been killing him inch by inch for four years.

If he was being completely honest here, the service had probably outgrown him, too.

Everywhere he looked, there were young, dynamic would-be O'Neills rising through the ranks with unseemly haste. He looked at their faces and saw himself 30 years ago ... eager, sharp, sometimes cocky, always committed. But he didn't envy them. And the day he realised he didn't envy them was the day he filed his papers.

The decision had, in the end, been surprisingly easy. He'd called High Up, told them he wouldn't be talked out of it this time. He'd called Landry as a courtesy, called his lawyer and arranged to update his will because he was nothing if not organised and sensible and then he'd gone back to his apartment and cracked open the Laphraoig and raised a glass to a job he thought had been pretty well done.

Then he'd called Daniel, who had been lecturing trainees at the Air Force Academy and was pissy at their perceived lack of interest but had made all the right noises when Jack told him what he'd done without giving anything away about how he'd really felt. Three months later, Jack still wasn't sure what Daniel really felt. Jack thought that was because Daniel wanted Jack to take that final step without any help or hindrance. If he was to go, it was to be his decision and his decision alone.

Jack hoped that now the deed was done, there would be the time and space to talk about it. There would be time for other things, too.

Four years of occasional weekends, snatched moments secreted away during official business, late-night phone calls that ended up with both feeling alone and hollow was more than enough.

Now, Jack wanted more. Jack wanted it all. He hoped Daniel did, too. He wanted to go to sleep in their bed and wake knowing that Daniel would be there. He wanted lazy breakfasts, lazier lovemaking and vacations that wouldn't be interrupted by threats to world security. He wanted to go to concerts, to drive across America, to tidy the yard, mow the lawn and know that he'd be around to put out the trash every Tuesday.

He wanted Daniel to share all of it. All the time.

The conversation was coming. He just hoped he'd find the words when it did.

He smoothed the jacket down as he hung it in the closet. It looked a little forlorn already. He couldn't help but feel the weight of the symbolism when he closed the door quietly and turned to put on the grey chinos and lightweight black silk sweater that represented the uniform for his new life.

He slipped into the kitchen where the caterers were busy preparing the food. All tastes catered for, up to and including Grandma Mitchell's apple pie, the recipe for which had been obtained by subterfuge from Cameron's mother. And there was cake. A big one, the kind Vala might have popped out of had she been in charge of arrangements instead of wreaking havoc in Atlantis. The kegs containing ridiculously expensive imported real ale were ranged on the kitchen counter, the wine was in a huge cooler in the corner.

On the deck, the giant barbecue was fired up and ready for business. Jack itched to get his hands on the steaks and burgers; a man should be master of the barbecue at his own home, damn it.

Waiters were polishing glassware and the party organisers were hanging white fairy lights throughout the garden. Flowers were everywhere. The feminine touches looked alien. This was very much a masculine house. He tried to look dispassionately at his home and had to admit those little touches did look good but he couldn't help but wonder if he'd done the right thing in handing over the organisation of this little shindig to professional party people. On the other hand, he did want to be free to enjoy this. He'd earned it. He wanted it to be special. For everyone.

As he snagged a Bud from the fridge, his cell phone chirped. He smiled as he checked caller ID and walked out into the yard as the last of the table and chairs were carried out behind him.

"Hey. You on your way?"

There was a heavy sigh. "Not yet. I'm caught up in something. Another hour, maybe two. Sorry."

Jack took a swig of beer and got out of the way as three huge bowls of salad were added to the groaning outdoor food table.

"Don't be. Time is now something I have a lot of. Get here when you can. I'd prefer sooner rather than later but that's only because I miss you like fuck."

"Yeah, me too. About last weekend ... I ..."

"Aht. No apologies. Shit happens. Gotta go. Wilson, party planner extraordinaire, is giving my CD collection unsavory looks. Obviously not a Wagner man. There's no way in hell I'm having a bunch of marines macarenaing their way through the hydrangeas."

Jack heard Daniel huff a laugh. "Anything you want me to bring?"

"Just yourself. Always been enough for me."

"Okay. Bye"

Jack grinned as he snapped the phone shut. He loved the way Daniel made those two words sound like one when he was busy.

"Mr O'Neill." How the hell could a plaintive plea double as an accusation? Jack sighed and headed indoors. "There is nothing here that is going to get your guests on their feet and partying like it's 1999." The exasperation was loud and clear. The man in the tight jeans and red silk shirt was not happy.

"What do you suggest Wilson?" Jack took a long draught from the bottle.

"Almost anything but this." He waved a disparaging hand at the CD stack. "Motown works wonders early on. Seventies disco later. Bacharach even later."

"Yeah. Okay, Whatever. You're the expert." Jack turned away and headed for his bedroom and some pre-party peace and quiet.

"And the macarena is always a crowd-pleaser."

Jack choked on the last of the Bud. Suddenly, it felt like it could be a long night.

>>>>>>>

 

_"And something without warning love, bears heavy on my mind ..."_

_  
_

If not quite in full swing, the party was progressing nicely. Jack was playing the gracious host, still feeling a little uneasy about handing over meat-charring and glass-filling duties to the hired help. Too late now to wish he'd opted for a smaller, more intimate, more ...O'Neill sort of affair.

Teal'c had been first to arrive, complete with some Chulakian dish that looked suspiciously like spiny anteater floating in a sea of minestrone soup. It smelled like nothing on Earth. Which is exactly what it was. Jack had smiled and accepted the gift with good grace.

Cassie and boyfriend number 104 had made quite an entrance, turning up as they did in his '64 Mustang. Number 104 and Griff then spent half an hour under the hood, speaking the kind of language that excluded anyone who thought that cars were merely a method of transportation. Cassie had forcibly dragged her errant companion inside muttering, "You pay more attention to that damned thing than you do to me."

Jack was mingling, making party small talk, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Great pie, Jack."

Mitchell.

"Yes. Well. It's always been about the pie. And cake." Jack looked at Mitchell and saw himself at that age. Confident, self-assured, some would say too self-assured. King of the fucking world. The man was a good leader. He'd grown into command. Jack had trusted him to carry the torch in the field, just as he had trusted, and continued to trust, Landry with the program. Neither man had ever let him down, which was part of the reason his decision to go now had been far easier than he had anticipated.

Mitchell was due a promotion shortly and he'd earned it. Jack hoped it wouldn't take him away from the front lines. He was needed there.

Jack watched as the younger man's face grew serious.

"I'll look after the kids, Jack." Jack nodded slightly, an intimation of acknowledgement. He didn't trust his voice.

Turning away, Jack saw Carter arrive. He was surprised she was on-world. Her skills were much in demand in Pegasus and she hadn't made it to the official farewell. Must have just got Earth-side. He was glad to see her.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow as Shanahan followed her in.

After the obligatory handshake, Shanahan made a beeline for the beer and Jack pulled Carter aside gently.

"You're sure about this?"

"Yep." Sam didn't quite meet his eyes.

He took a long pull from his half-empty bottle, regarding her skeptically as she took a sudden interest in her shoes. "I'd like to think you're happy for me." He watched Sam shake her head in mild exasperation as she moved away, tight-faced and defensively pissy.

Jack stared after her. It was a messy, crappy situation. But tonight wasn't about Carter's incomprehensible love life.

Tonight was about him and food and dancing and beer. And Daniel. It was always about Daniel ... who has walking in the door, late, distracted and apologetic.

Jack squeezed past the throng milling in the hallway.

"Hey. You made it."

"Yeah. Finally. Have I missed anything?" Jack watched as Daniel's gaze flitted across the immediate area. His recon skills were so much better these days.

"Not really. Cassie's new beau is covered in tattoos. Walter's daughter has thrown up in the rose bushes and Carter and Shanahan are going for the annual Burton-Taylor Award. Other than that ..."

Daniel smiled. Jack's heart did that ridiculous fluttering thing. Jack thought he looked tired; there was strain around his eyes. He'd come straight from the Mountain without going home to his apartment to change. He still managed to make a rumpled, light blue shirt and dark blue pleated pants look good. As he continued to take in who was there and what they were doing, Daniel ran a hand across his forehead.

"Headache?" Jack asked, putting a half-hidden hand to the small of Daniel's back as he ushered him towards the food.

"A little." Daniel smiled and waved at Sam across the room.

"Taken anything?"

"Yes, mother."

"Just checking. Want you to enjoy tonight, even though parties aren't your thing."

"I'll do my best, scout's honor."

They had reached the food table and Jack was loading up a plate.

"You were never a scout. You can't tie knots for shit. When I first knew you, you could hardly tie your damn shoelaces."

Daniel huffed and grimaced at the amount of food on the plate thrust into his hands.

"That was a long time ago." He picked up a chicken wing and regarded it with suspicion.

"It's chicken, Daniel. It'll probably taste like chicken. For God's sake eat something."

"Cluck off, Jack. Did you get the good wine?"

Jack sighed. "There's a bottle of that unpronounceable French stuff you like. It's safely out of non-connoisseurs' reach in the basement. I'll go get ..."

Daniel put a hand on Jack's stomach to stop him. Jack felt his muscles tighten in response. Fuck, this non-touching was hard.

Daniel pulled his hand away as if burned. He closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip. Jack knew he'd felt the involuntary body reaction. He wondered if Daniel had read it as rejection. It wasn't. It was a desperate yearning for more. He was always desperate for Daniel's touch. Jack caught a momentary flash of sadness, anguish, in the man's eyes before he recovered.

"No, no, no. You're the host. I'll go."

Jack watched him go, frustration and mild anger clawing at him. They were among friends here. He was retired now. This was his fucking home. Surely ...

"Great party, Sir." Jack turned to find Siler filling a plate.

Jack smiled. "Drop the Sir, Siler. It's Jack from this day forward."

"Air Force won't be the same without you Si--, Jack," he said, spilling mayo down the front of his classic Motorhead T-shirt. With a muttered "Damn it," he tried to wipe it off, only succeeding in making it worse.

"I'll get you a spare," Jack said, relieving Siler of the plate and making for his bedroom, tracking Daniel as he re-entered the living room and went over to kiss Carter in greeting.

Passing the bathroom, Jack was halted in his tracks as he heard noises. They were unmistakable. A hastily muffled grunt, a low cry. Unmistakably male. He shook his head wryly. He was pretty sure Don't Ask, Don't Tell extended to Don't Listen at Bathroom Doors. He picked out an old AF sweatshirt from his drawers and watched unobserved as Reynolds left the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind him. Two minutes later, Pierce followed. Damn. He'd never had that one pegged. He wondered if a quiet word might be in order. Indiscretion had accounted for more than one promising career and both men were racking up the promotions. But he understood. One was off-world when the other was on. Schedules conflicted. Anything and everything took precedence. Five precious minutes in a locked room was probably the most time they'd managed together in weeks. Fuck. He was glad he was done with that.

And it really wasn't his problem anymore.

Thrusting the sweatshirt into Siler's hands, Jack made his way into the yard, where knots of people were talking, eating and drinking and the sky was turning a delicate red as the sun began to set. It was beautiful. He was surrounded by friends, all of them wishing him well. His working life was done. He'd done all that was asked of him and more.

He should have been happy, content. He wasn't. Lurking beneath the surface was an unsettling desperation, tickling at the parts of his brain that weren't crammed full of making sure everyone had a good time, while appearing that he was having one, too.

As always, his gaze searched for Daniel. He was sitting on the sofa with Carter. Their heads were close together. Whatever they were talking about didn't involve much smiling. He watched as Daniel reached for Carter's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She did smile then; a sort of sad, half-smile as she squeezed back. She leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. A long-sealed compartment in Jack's brain opened just a fraction and he allowed himself to wonder. There had been a time, just after the whole Jolinar thing, when he thought that maybe ...

He slammed the lid shut. The past belonged to the past. As of today, he was all about the future.

 

>>>>

 

_"It's high time now, just one crack at life ..."_

_  
_

The deck had become a dance floor and Odyssey were extolling the joys of loving and living in New York. Dr Lam was a great mover. Bill Lee was gyrating next to her. What he lacked in co-ordination, he made up for in enthusiasm. Reynolds was handing a wine glass to his wife. Pierce was trying not to watch them and failing. What with Reynolds and Pierce and Carter and Shanahan, Jack had the unnerving feeling he was watching a cheap soap play out before his eyes. As the Gate Turns.

"Think it's time for a few words, Jack," Landry called, raising his glass in anticipation.

Cries of "hear hear" backed his call. Someone turned down the sound system.

Jack held up his hands as a crowd gathered. He looked for Daniel, his eyes inevitably drawn. Daniel was smiling, hanging back, leaning on the deck door frame, feigning indifference. Just another guest.

"Well, it will be a few words, Hank," Jack protested.

"That'll be a first," Mitchell shot, scarfing down another slice of Grandma's finest. There was laughter.

"Just wanted to say thanks for coming and eating and drinking me out of house and home." More laughter. "There's plenty more. Help me out here or I'll be eating this stuff for a month. Uh, it's great to see you all. It's been quite a day. And thanks for the gifts. I appreciate them all. Well, maybe not yours, Siler." Yet more laughter.

"Not much left to say except it's been an honor and to let you all know that I've decided to spend some of my retirement check on a kayak in which I shall explore the mighty rivers of British Columbia, and I expect you all to follow my adventures on this MySpace thing Cassie's set up for me."

Cassie grinned.

"So. Cheers. To us all."

"Cheers!"

Glasses were clinked, the contents downed and the music came back up.

Daniel stayed where he was, Jack's gaze resting on him as the crowd dispersed. Daniel raised his glass, locking eyes; saying nothing in words while the look said everything.

 

>>>>>

 

_"Yes, I'm in love, who looks at you the way I do? ..."_

_  
_

By 1.30am, things were getting mellow. Those with kids had been gone for some time, leaving the grown-ups to move on from the beer to the brandy. The waiting staff had cleared all the tables save for the one in the kitchen, which was still laden with food. Sad-looking, tipped-over wine glasses had been cleared from the yard and it was beginning to feel like the beginning of the end. Barcharach had replaced Kool and the Gang and, for those not on the deck cum dance floor, talk had, inevitably, returned to work. There was less laughter now; more deep conversation in muted tones.

Mitchell was a little the worse for wear but not so far gone that he couldn't hold his own in a three-way discussion on the future of the program with Hammond and Landry. George had only made it to the Springs an hour or so ago. His arrival delighted Jack.

Reynolds and his wife were shuffling on the deck to the sounds of Aretha. Pierce got up from his vantage point of the chair by the window, thanked Jack for a great party and left without looking back.

Shanahan stood up from the sofa where he had been sitting with Carter and Daniel and offered Carter his hand. After a moment's hesitation she took it and they wandered on to the deck, moving quietly into each other's arms.

Daniel stood, peering into the depths of his empty wine glass, lost in thought.

Jack appeared at his side. "Want some more?"

Daniel put the glass on the coffee table and shoved his hands in his pockets."No. I think I've had enough."

Jack went cold. And then it hit him ... this unsettled and unsettling feeling, this disquiet and niggling apprehension. It all came down to Daniel. This man, this amazing, complex, wonderful man was acting like a guest in a house that had been his home to all intents and purposes for more than five years. They'd lived here, loved here, fucked, laughed, cried and argued here. They'd done it all under cover of friendship. They'd put the program first and last and fuck only knew where their needs ranked in among all that. Jack was suddenly gut-clenchingly scared. In all the time they'd been together they had never really been together. Their relationship had been limited by time, by availability, by circumstances. Jack's retirement had altered the parameters beyond recognition. Virtually from the beginning, Jack had known that he wanted Daniel to share everything and for always, when the time was right.

They'd spoken in abstract, obtuse terms about the future but somehow it never felt real. If the past was a foreign country, the future certainly was.

There was also the unspoken fear that one or both of them would not live to see a time when they would be free to be together.

In their early days, they'd spoken longingly of such a time. But time and events had made that desire recede into the unreachable distance. It had got to the point where it was too painful and unrealistic to talk about it at all.

But Jack still knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was Daniel.

It was time.

No more excuses.

There was nothing standing in the way of Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson 24/7, except the little matter of Daniel wanting it, too, and of telling everyone that this was how it was going to be. It sounded so fucking easy when you put it like that but the ramifications, especially for Daniel, could still be huge and difficult. They could, for so many reasons, be insurmountable. Daniel Jackson was acting like a guest in a house that had been more of a home to him than all the rented apartments and houses he'd ever lived in.

To Jack, that was completely unacceptable.

Any minute now, Jack had the feeling Daniel was going to bolt. The body language said he was already preparing for strategic withdrawal. His shoulders were rising towards his ears. He was hunched, closing in on himself, and he was looking around the room as though he didn't recognise it. He would retreat to the cold, utilitarian house he rented for appearance's sake and would stay there until it was safe to come "home."

Well fuck. Not any more.

Jack walked towards the deck, turning as he reached the open glass door. A gentle breeze had taken the warmth out of the evening and it ruffled Daniel's hair as he eyed Jack guardedly. Jack opened his arms. Just stood there; arms outstretched, asking the question. Daniel's eyes met Jack's and Jack read so much in there; hesitancy, a little fear, but above all else, a longing, a need, a love so real and tangible it almost undid him completely. But he stood where he was. He made himself stay where he was. Daniel had to make the move. Daniel had to come to him, to want what was being offered.

So Jack stood on his deck on the day of his retirement, in the small hours of a late August morning, watched by friends who had suddenly gone still and silent, with shaking arms held out in invitation. Dusty's husky voice dueled with the lilting piano as Daniel walked slowly towards Jack. The movement was almost dream-like; a slow-motion monochrome image played out on a big screen before a disbelieving audience.

Looking back, it was the moment he was to remember most vividly.

It felt like an age before Daniel was standing before him. A Daniel who looked hopeful and terrified in equal measure but had still been brave enough to take the steps. He looked heartbreakingly vulnerable and Jack ached for him so fucking much. Jack smiled at him and drew him into the circle of his arms. As he gathered him to his body, Jack could feel Daniel's heart beating an unhealthy tattoo. Jack tightened his hold, ran his hands soothingly and slowly up and down Daniel's back as he moved them in a subtle, gentle rhythm on the now-clear dance floor. Jack felt the resistance. Daniel's body was tightly held and Jack realised the man was fighting himself. All he could do was hang on until the battle was fought. He touched him with love, with a tenderness Jack hoped would let him know that he was cherished and safe. That Jack was with him now every bit as much as he had been when they'd made love and held each other in their bed in this house so many times.

_"Be mine, tonight ... let this be just the start of so many nights like this ..."_

Jack held on, caressing Daniel's head in an unmistakably possessive gesture. _You're mine, be mine ..._

As Dusty's smoky voice wrapped itself around the seductive lyrics, so Jack enfolded Daniel in love. The haunting sax break filled Jack's head and he allowed the music to blot out everything and everyone else. And that's when Jack felt it. Daniel's body simply melted into his. Sheer, total capitulation. Daniel had given in to himself and in doing so was giving himself to Jack. His breathing was ragged and held the promise of tears as he finally, slowly, rested his head on Jack's shoulder and tentatively tightened his hold on Jack's back.

They swayed together, not really moving at all. In any other circumstance, holding Daniel this close would have made him hard in seconds. Now, all he felt was a glorious, trusting weight of muscle and skin, a warmth and completeness he could never articulate. This was not about sex, this was all about love.

It was a complete fucking honor to hold this man safe.

He mouthed a single kiss into Daniel's hair as the music started to fade. They made no move to part, still holding each other. Finally, as the CD switched to a Dionne insisting she'd never fall in love again, Jack pulled back slightly. He saw only love in the eyes that met his and they nuzzled foreheads together gently, almost seeking some kind of mute, mutual reassurance.

Question asked and answered, Jack guessed.

For Daniel's ears only, Jack whispered, "Thank you. I ..." he faltered. "So much. So fucking much, Daniel."

Daniel nodded slightly and they moved apart reluctantly, smiling gently.

They looked around and knew instantly how zoo exhibits felt. Everyone's attention was on them. The silence was all encompassing. No-one seemed to know what to do next.

"Well, someone say something, for god's sake," Jack said, trying for a levity he didn't really feel.

"Guess that'll be a kayak for two then, huh?" Mitchell. The silence grew a little less awkward, eventually resolving itself into relieved laughter.

Jack threw an arm round Daniel's shoulder, offering tacit support. This was just the start of their happy ending. There were sure to be problems ahead, but they were for another day.

"Wilson!" The astonished little man, who had been witnessing the drama unfold from the corner of the living room and hallway, jerked into awareness. "Mr O'Neill?"

"I think it's macarena time..."

 

end


End file.
